Searching
by Glyphhunter
Summary: Drabbles for Gin.  Things that may or may not have happened in his life.
1. Escape

He was hungry, sore, tired and fuck all if he was actually getting any sleep that night. Hell, even the alley cats were probably dead to the world by that point. But he needed to get out of there and far away 'cause shit would go down if anyone saw him. Then he tripped and dammit, he _knew_ he should've moved that when he first went by!

The support behind the bucket clattered to the floor, bringing down items he didn't even want to contemplate, let alone see. He cursed his luck as he picked himself up, making a break for the hole that he knew would potentially give him safety if someone else hadn't already found it. But they had and his hope died as quickly as it had come. So he kept running. The sores on his feet had re-opened and he was painfully reminded with every jarring step, leap and stumble he made. His lungs burned and he knew that cold he had the week before was going to rear it ugly head in the morning.

Then there was pain and he was sent rolling. Fuck it to hell.


	2. Question

"Hey," the voice was smooth and warm, accompanied by cool fingers brushing over his forehead. He turned towards them in response, his eyes flickering open. Blond hair glowed gold in the candlelight and his eyes widened.

"S-" the fingers covered his lips just as his throat decided to close up, halting his attempt at speech. He stared at the man next to him, trying to process his mysterious appearance but nothing would come up so just settled for staring back at the soft blue eyes that held him still. A wry smile had curved his lips.

"Just came to say 'hi'," he said. The fingers moved up, tracing along his brow. He continued to stare.

A chuckle left the other man's lips, "Relax."

He blinked and tensed.

"That's not relaxing," he grinned, "I won't bite, you know that." The blond continued to watch him as he slowly nodded, fingers threading through his hair. He sighed, letting his eyes fall closed.

A moment later, he opened them to darkness and he realized as his chest tightened that it had only been a desperate wish of a dream.


	3. Static

_Maybe... this wasn't such a good idea._

He'd been watching them for a while, hiding just beyond their immediate attention though he was sure at least a couple of them knew he was there. He half wondered why they were back. Why they were away from the excitement of the Grand Line they obviously loved. Then he saw the kid clutched in the captain's arms, no older than a few months and he knew. The parentage was obvious with it's fiery hair and wide, coal-gray eyes and he wondered how he'd missed seeing it there.

He sighed and slumped against the wall he was leaning against as they started moving again. It was nice to see them - to see _him_. To see how much they - _he_ - had changed. It made him reflect on himself. On how, despite all the years, he was still stuck in East Blue and no different from the last time he'd seen _him_ while they were visibly stronger in nearly all aspects. He almost wished he could join them.

He finally turned and walked away as that blond head looked towards him, missing the surprise that filled those blue eyes. Missing the cigarette that almost fell to the ground. His name was called; a hauntingly familiar echo of his dreams and he was midway through turning before he squashed that hope that had bloomed in his chest. His hands curled into fists as he bowed his head, his steps slowing as he waited for a repeat - _just incase_. But there wasn't any and he gave it up to his imagination once again.

He continued through the shopping people, ignoring that irrational sense of loss and concentrating on the joy he'd felt when he first laid eyes on the crew. The contentment of just watching them mill around town. He became deaf to those around him, making sure that his feet would take just _one more step _along the worn stone. Then all he could smell were spices and smoke as his vision swam and suddenly he was looking into the warm blue eyes that he'd been seeing everywhere.

"You're looking better," he heard and he wondered how that impossibly smooth voice had gotten even smoother as he shuddered.


	4. Trapped

He stumbled back to his feet, clutching his shoulder as he wiped blood from his lip. The darkness continued to mask almost everything, including the reason for his fall. So he left it and started to run again, just managing to see the bar that melted out of the darkness before he clotheslined himself and ducked under it.

The bag bounced against his leg, its contents clicking together in a way he didn't like but he couldn't stop to fix it. He couldn't afford it. He was already in danger as it was.

Then he heard the shouts and knew right then that any hope of escape had disappeared. There was barking and howling followed by chains and his teeth clenched as he pushed himself to go faster. They just _had_ to bring out the fucking dogs!

Something ahead caught his attention and cold fear flooded through him. Massive and hulking, the form over-shadowed _everything_ and it was all he could do not to cry out as he crashed to a stop in his attempt to go backwards. He watched it as his entire body shook, fighting between heading towards that _thing_ or running back towards the dogs that were growing closer and closer. In all of his time there, he'd yet to run into this.

Pain eliminated his decision, however, as one particularly quiet hunter managed to grab him, its snarls erupting in his ear. His hands moved on reflex, nails going for where he knew the eyes would be but one didn't respond the way he wanted and the flash made him yell as his body tried to tear itself away instead. Everything was blinding as he fought to open his eyes.


	5. Breathing

His pounding head was the first thing he noticed. Then it was his throat quickly followed by the need to vomit. So he did and not in a way he would've preferred. The bile pooled in his mouth, spraying unpleasantly on his face and he choked as he tried to turn. The attempt failed spectacularly, however, and he just managed to spit it out and take a breath before another wave spasmed through him, ending with hacking coughs that left him gasping. It was a haze of repetition and the only difference between each one was the pain as it grew. In his mouth, in his throat, in his chest, in his stomach, it was there, claiming him with each little tremor and he realized he was starting to taste blood.

Then something was next to him and jerking on his arms and he tried to pull away, to escape from anymore potential pain. The tugging became more insistent and he shook his head. The result was dizzying and he groaned. At least, he thought he did. He couldn't really hear anything. His throat hurt more though.

Cold, clammy fingers touched his face and he jumped, suddenly finding more energy in his panic to push them away. But they stayed in spite of his clawing fingers, moving to hold his head for some disconcernable reason. So he fought, his hands flying forward as his feet kicked outwards at his offender. His body twisted downwards, squirming with each punch and kick and the next thing he knew, the nausea was back with a vengeance and tearing through him in its anger. He found himself being turned and those hands were still on him, holding him as each gag left him weak and trembling. He cursed himself, trying to clear his vision through blinking but the spots remained stubborn and refused to fade.

"Gin," his name cut though the rushing static in his ears and he tried to look at the one that was holding him, knowing they were the origin and - if he was right - the one he had been desperately hoping for. But his heart was already calming in his chest and as the arms embraced him from behind, he knew it was _him_ without having to see. His name was repeated and he caught the crack that was in it, felt the tears that landed on his neck and the hair that brushed against his cheek.

He shuddered and took a gasping breath as his stomach jumped, tilting his head back to try and get more air. The action made the cook move, lifting him off the cold surface he'd been on and taking him where he knew he'd be safe.

"Let's get you out of here," was needlessly said as he felt himself relax uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, stay with me!" came the panicked reaction and he groaned faintly just to prove he wasn't dead. Because he wouldn't die. Not after Sanji has gone through all of that to get him back.

'I won't die,' was what he wanted to say and he tried but the most that came out was a wavering moan that he had to cut off half way to cough.

"No," he was told, "don't talk. Let Chopper look at you first, get some sleep and _then_ you can talk." He ignored that and tried again anyway but with something else.

"'nks," was all he got. Sanji huffed.


	6. Nightmare

He tilted the shard between his fingers, watching the light of the sun as it reflected off the flat surface. His own face flashed a few times and he blinked to avoid looking at it, not wanting to see the state he knew it would be in. The scrap on his brow he could feel when the wind blew. The bruises that tingled when ever he moved his jaw. The cut on his chin that was bleeding again after he'd picked off the scab. He sighed and tilted his head back, letting it hit the wall behind him.

The clouds were moving slowly across the sky and he watched one as it flew along. Its form shifted gradually, growing smaller and smaller as gentle wisps seemed to stretch out and fade away. Eventually, it was gone, disappearing as it drifted between two larger ones. _No difference_, he figured. It didn't matter if something that small was erased. There was no change. No indication that it was even needed.

_I wonder if I'm the same..._

He scanned the sky for another cloud to follow and watched it as it too broke apart and changed. It was like watching a body being torn apart in slow motion. Agonizingly painful as the tissues tried their hardest to stay together, crying uselessly while the warmth and comfort was taken away and falling limp when the support finally disappeared. The end was undeniable and strict, the option to be restored impossible and useless to hope for.

The thought was terrifying. His body shivered and his fist tightened around the glass. A corner was poking into his finger, he realized and let go. No need to add more blood to the pile.


	7. Furry

He spied it at the end of the road, right before the building that he no longer walked by because of the smell. If it hadn't moved, he would've missed it. But once he'd seen it, it was hard to believe he could've.

_Now, to get over there without my stomach being grabbed and yanked on._

He brainstormed for a bit, trying to think of a path that would get him around the ever tempting smell but came up with nothing. So he resigned himself to having to go by that _stupid _bakery with its delicious scents and grab the animal laying under the sign.

_Time to get a move on._ And he did, keeping to the sides of the street and out of the way of the women and occasional man doing their shopping.

It was a puppy, he realized, curled up tight against one on the sign legs. Black, white and gray and very fluffy. It's curled tail would shift every now and then along with a foot as it slipped and he found himself crouching down so he could get a better look. It's eyes opened and stared at him, a piercing aquamarine that made him lean back a bit.

"Hey," he murmured, holding his hand out, "how're you doing?" He didn't get a reply (not that he expected one) but it did blink and shift a bit so that was progress. He smiled. "Not so good, huh?" he said. He moved his hand a bit closer and it lifted it's head. That was when he was the red on it's paw.

"Yeah," he sighed with a nod, "I understand. Life's a bitch." He received a somewhat dry look and he laughed. "Hey, hey, no need for that. I'm trying to help you," he told it and it huffed. He grinned, "Can I pick you up?" There was a moment where it stared at him as he continued to hold out his hand. Then it moved, it's head stretching forward to nudge his fingertips and he grinned. "That's right," he leaned forward and took the puppy in both hands around it's middle, lifting it and holding it against his chest as he stood, "I'll make your foot all better." It gave a whining groan as he giggled.


	8. Rivalry

It was like watching a sibling war. Though, once he though about it, it probably was. Even though food seemed to be flying every which way, none of it landed on the floor or the walls or the ceiling and he was pretty sure everybody was consuming something between the protests and shouts of theft. He thought he saw blood fly along with a flash of a knife though it could've been ketchup. The was lots of it out after all.

He clutched his plate tighter to himself as he stared at the chaos.

"It's fine," he heard and he realized Sanji was standing just behind him, "Sencho knows you're off limits." Gin could only shake his head.

"I'm assuming it's always like this?" he questioned, bringing a fork of meat to his mouth.

"Just wait until you see breakfast," the cook warned and Gin's eyes widened, "I have to make almost twice as much as dinner." The expression on his face must've been pretty funny 'cause the blond was laughing. "Don't worry," he said, placing a hand on the brunet's head. Gin found himself leaning into a black clothed torso as he was embraced and some sort of pseudo hug. "You'll be fine," he heard and he looked up at the smiling face above him.

"Right," he said and Sanji grinned. Then Zoro said something he didn't catch. Probably about him, he figured, since was pressed tighter against Sanji almost protectively. He blinked as his hands lifted his plate to keep it balanced because Sanji was flying across the room and Zoro was standing and suddenly everything just got louder.

He sighed and continued to eat, wondering when the captain would start stealing from him.


	9. Healing

The wind was vaguely chilling, he realized, pulling his sweater tighter around him. But he wouldn't go back, not yet. It was so quiet, so calm. To go back to the chaos...

_No..._

He shook his head and leaned against the rail, breathing in the familiar salty scent of the ocean. He needed this, the moment of solitude as he watched the night sky with the moon and it's siblings. It was surprisingly bright for a quarter moon, the white light reflecting off the darkness of the sea. And if he stopped focusing, he found that the quantity of lights doubled. The ocean and the sky blended together, creating a massive blanket of sparkling black that surrounded him completely. It was breathtaking.

The sound of a door made him blink, shattering the illusion as everything came back into focus and he looked behind him for the source. The blond was standing there, allowing the yellow light to flow uninhibited out of the room along with the obnoxious noise and he raised a brow in question.

"Chopper's worried," he explained and Gin scoffed.

"I'm fine," he smiled.


	10. Barred

_Forget this shit!_

He dodged the knife his attacker was wielding and bolted, tearing down the alley with Suki on his heels. He could find somewhere else that was easier to get into. And, of course, he ended up being chased because, 'Noo, can't let the guttershit that didn't manage to grab anything get away.' He curled his nose in distaste. _Always the same_.

"Go, Suki," he gestured ahead, "southeast." He received a soft 'woof' before the husky bounded forward, turning the corner and out of sight. Their southeast refuge was the furthest one away, the one the guy most likely wouldn't follow to.

_Now to get myself out of here_, he mused as he ran, ducking around a middle aged man taking out trash. Bewildered insults were shouted and ignored in favor of avoiding the broken glass littering the ground. An injured foot was exactly what he didn't need. So he moved mindlessly until he caught sight of the familiar red serpent that signaled the beginning of the southern quadrant and slowed. Nothing to sell for food. He sighed. Week old bread once again.


	11. Slaughter

It was the yelp that alerted him to the danger; the growls, yowls and cries. He rolled out of the blanket, his heart racing and he cursed when his hand got caught.

"Suki!" he called at the yelps continued, staggering to his feet at a run. Around the corner, the husky was latched onto the arm of a man as he tries to shake her off. Another man was beating her with a pipe, the metal striking solidly. At his cry, both looked up and he stepped back at the looks in their eyes.

"What are you doing?"

They ignored him as a third man approached, walking passed and only a click warned of the resounding crack of a gunshot. Gin choked, watching as Suki slumped and her jaws were pried open. He shook, his eyes burning with an unfamiliar sting as she was thrown aside.

"Why..." his voice shuddered and he swallowed reflexively.

"You've been very bad," the one with the gun said. Gin took a step back. "It seems that you are no longer a harmless wretch, anymore," the grin made him turn, fearing his death.


	12. Forward

He sat against the rock, head leaning listlessly to the side as he stared at the pond. The leaves whispered high above as the wind blew, it's breaths not quite reaching the forest floor. Every so often, a ripple would disturb the illusion of a sky, breaking his train of thought. He sighed, watching the rings as they expanded, forgetting the direction his mind was going.

With a grunt, he stood and brushed the dirt and leaves from his pants.

_Keep going. Always keep going._

He wasn't going to give up, not if there was a chance.

_There's always a chance_._ I'll keep going and I'll keep waiting_, he nodded to himself because there was that slim chance that maybe - just maybe - _he_ will come back if for no other reason than to just say 'hi'.

He heard it before he felt it. The gust of wind that swept through the forest as it grabbed leaves from their trees and pulled his sweater wide open.

He headed back with a smile. Time to find a boat.


End file.
